Five and Twenty
by Laura Schiller
Summary: Bookverse/BBCverse. After the disastrous visit to Miss Wade in ep. 7, Arthur tries to offer some advice. Can Mr. Meagles take what he's been dishing out?


Five and Twenty

By Laura Schiller

Based on: Little Dorrit

Copyright: BBC/Charles Dickens' estate

Arthur's and Mr. Meagles' visit to Miss Wade, and their attempt to persuade Mr. Meagles' foster-daughter to leave those shadowed rooms, had been a failure. Mr. Meagles clattered down the stairs in ponderous indignation; Arthur followed more quietly, glancing over his shoulder at Miss Wade's apartment door with a twinge of worry. He did not like the way Tattycoram – _no, she hates that name_ – the way Harriet had hidden behind Miss Wade like a shadow, never speaking except to echo the taller woman's opinions with frightening violence. _Go back? I'd tear myself to pieces first!_

Arthur swallowed back his own anger, which had been rising all throughout the past conversation – with Miss Wade, for her chilling politeness, her sarcasm and the way she flaunted her power over Harriet; with Harriet, for being too stubborn to leave when she was obviously unhappy; and last but not least, with pompous, short-sighted Mr. Meagles himself, who hadn't made the interview any easier. _Willing to forgive you_, indeed. Only Arthur's sense of decorum, drilled into him by his mother – _This is between Mr. Meagles and his ward, you have no right to interfere_ – had kept him from bluntly speaking his mind to all three of them. Instead, all he'd been able to do was call Harriet by her proper name – to show her that at least _this_ middle-class white man was willing to listen – and try to subtly reassure her that, in spite of his arrogant behavior, Mr. Meagles really was trying to look out for her well-being.

"I have never struck a woman in my life," snapped a red-faced Mr. Meagles, referring to Miss Wade. "But I came close to striking that one! There's something _unnatural_ about her!"

On the other hand, sometimes a family friend (especially one who could have been a son-in-law) had a duty to interfere. Arthur took a deep breath.

"You seem a little agitated, sir," he said. "Perhaps _you_ should count to five-and-twenty."

"What do you mean by that, Mr. Clennam?" blustered the older man. "I have every right to be agitated!"

"And I suppose Tatty – that is, Harriet does not?" That nickname really was annoyingly persistent; the more Arthur thought about it, the less he could blame the girl for feeling resentful.

Mr. Meagles shrugged uncomfortably, fidgeting with the lapels of his coat. "Well, I … I can't really see _why_, to tell the truth. What have we ever _done_ to make her turn against us in this manner?" He threw up his hands, then began counting on his fingers. "Mrs. Meagles and I took her in out of the orphanage, we gave her food, shelter, fine clothes, we even allowed her to sit in on Pet's lessons with her governess! We have treated her as our own daughter – and this is how she repays us?"

"Let me put it this way, Mr. Meagles … when was the last time you asked Miss Meagles to fetch a shawl, or make tea, or some such thing, for – for Miss Harriet?" Arthur remembered to use the proper form of address for a gentleman's second daughter, thinking he might as well practise what he preached.

Mr. Meagles glanced at him sharply, as if trying to figure out what he was driving at. "Why, I can't recall … does it matter? Should I have?" Being a clever man, after all, he began visibly weighing evidence, putting together various things Harriet had said. Arthur could practically see it, as if his friend had a mental set of brass scales to match the one in his office.

"Well, I suppose … I suppose if Tattycoram _were_ our own daughter, Mrs. Meagles and I might have handled matters differently … "

"You would have treated both girls equally, would you not?" Arthur prompted gently.

He thought of Mr. Dorrit's way with his children: shouting at his son for trivial reasons, praising his older daughter for a mere outward show, and accusing Little Dorrit, his most dutiful and devoted child of all, of selfishness. The Father of the Marhsalsea was a worse father to his own flesh and blood than any Arthur had ever met. Mr. Meagles, in spite of his errors, had a long way to go before he could sink to that level.

"But it doesn't seem _proper_, you know?" Mr. Meagles raised his hands again, almost apologetically. "Our Pet was born to be a lady, while Tattycoram is … well … "

"An orphan of unknown origins, and with a dark complexion?" Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Surely she is not to blame for that."

"I never claimed that she was."

"And yet you still used these facts as reasons to set her apart. Miss Harriet was, and is, your daughter, by law if not by blood. Suppose all she wanted was to be on equal terms with her sister?"

Mr. Meagles' step faltered at the word 'sister'. Arthur wondered guiltily if he had gone too far. The death of Pet's twin was a sensitive topic in the Meagles' household; not because they avoided it, but because they had a strange way of conflating the two girls: as if Pet were two daughters in one, or as if Millie, the twin, had never existed except as a shadow or copy of Pet. The image appeared to give them comfort, but what would it have done to a girl like Harriet, to be raised in the shadow of a beloved ghost?

Glancing at Mr. Meagles, Arthur saw the older man pass a tired hand over his forehead. His lips moved; he was counting to himself in a whisper.

"Fifteen, sixteen, seventeen … " Arthur caught the hint of brightness in his friend's eyes, and looked away to spare his dignity.

" … four and twenty … five and twenty. It was my wife's idea to adopt a child, you know." The gruff, businesslike tone of Mr. Meagles' voice fooled neither of them. "Pet was so … lonely … after her sister passed away. My wife believed another little girl would be good company for her. But then … she was so very _different_. Tattycoram, I mean. Such a temper she had, even as a child … so unlike what we expected." His voice had faded to a faraway whisper, lost in memory. "So unlike our Millie."

The two men walked in silence for a long while, lost in thought. Arthur wondered, briefly, what sort of woman Millie Meagles would have grown into; would she have really resembled Pet, or developed a different style and character just to set herself apart from her identical twin?

"Do you suppose," Mr. Meagles spoke up finally, "That Tattycoram – confound it, I must began to call her by her Christian name! Do you suppose that _Harriet_ will ever come to her senses and return to us?"

The possibility was slim. After living with Miss Wade, Harriet surely must have recognized the depths of hate beneath that smooth façade. Either she was staying out of pure stubborn pride, or Miss Wade's power over her was more complex and sinister than an outsider could guess – or, as Arthur tried his best to believe, Miss Wade really did have a compassionate side, which she showed to Harriet when they were alone.

Mr. Meagles' gray eyes begged for reassurance. He could not have been more anxious, Arthur realized, if it were Pet locked away in that cold-eyed woman's suite.

"God willing," was all he could say. "I hope so."


End file.
